


Don't panic

by Well excuse me (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Pregnancy Scares, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/Well%20excuse%20me
Summary: Sherlock thinks it's perfectly normal that Molly wants to spend a nice Sunday with him until John reminds him that the eighteenth of June is a special Sunday this year.





	Don't panic

Lestrade looked exhausted as he tiredly described the newest baffling case. It was a late afternoon, Saturday, another tedious week coming to an end. Lestrade definitely needed a break, maybe holidays that had nothing to do with Mycroft.

'No sign of forced entry, nothing missing. Two brothers on the floor of the living room, beaten to death, no murder weapon. Been raining, mud everywhere around the house and no footprints,' Lestrade muttered, too wrung out to form full sentences.

John had a dozen of illogical theories and opened his mouth to waste time on discussing them. Sherlock stopped him.

'Looks interesting. I can't spare time tomorrow, John, it's up to you. I'll join in on Monday.'

John frowned. 'I've told you I can't. Father's Day, remember? I don't want to leave Rosie with Mrs Hudson on this particular day. Why can't you? Didn't you mention it was Mycroft's turn this year to endure the torture of spending a whole day with your father?'

Sherlock cleared his throat. 'Molly requested my presence. I'm under the impression that she has prepared a surprise for me.'

Lestrade smirked, then his eyes became huge without a reason and his eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. He stared at John, who mirrored his expression. Sherlock looked at them, perplexed. He thought the exaggerated reactions to his mentions of Molly were already a thing of the past. Yes, they were a couple, did Lestrade have to be so surprised by their spending time together?

'Are you sure you can't postpone your date with Molly?' Lestrade asked finally, poorly concealing his unexplained joy. 'Does it have to be tomorrow? The surprise she has planned?'

'I had a feeling the date was important to her, yes,' Sherlock replied, contemplating sulking. He didn't like it when John and Lestrade knew something that he didn't.

John took a deep breath. 'Mate, I think I know what you're going to get tomorrow. A life-changing gift.'

'In the form of a test that has only one, closed-ended question,' Lestrade added, grinning. 'How wonderful... wait, another one. John, another Sherlock.'

'Oh, Christ,' John agreed, but then smiled reassuringly. 'Don't panic, Sherlock.'

A surprise planned for the eighteenth of June two thousand and seventeen. A test, one question. Life-changing. Another Sherlock...

'Oh... OH,' Sherlock gasped as he put all of the pieces together. The usual satisfaction of having solved a puzzle was overshadowed by the greatest shock of his life. He had never considered becoming a father, having convinced himself that he was meant to live a solitary life. Only recently had he understood that he could be in a relationship without worrying all the time that he was ruining his partner's life in countless ways. And now this... He knew, of course, that the only always effective form of contraception was the one they did not use, but still...

'Just breathe, Sherlock, it's all right,' John's voice sounded distant and vaguely smug. Oh, he enjoyed the role reversal. Sherlock probably looked just as stunned as he did when he heard that Mary was most likely pregnant. 'Don't panic.'

Panic was the only logical response Unplanned pregnancy. Complications. Responsibility. Molly regretting her decision to sleep with him. Molly hoping the baby would be nothing like him. Birth defects. Post-natal depression. SIDS. Teething. His inability to make dad jokes. Losing the child in a crowd. Embarrassing the child. Molly never wanting to sleep with him again. The child being bullied in school. The child being a bully. Kidnapping. Cancer. Abusive nannies. Mycroft as an uncle.  

It all became more real when he recalled his conversation with Daddy earlier that day. Sherlock had rung him the day before Father's Day to make sure he wouldn't forget about it. Somewhere between the boring stories about the changing weather and the roof that needed attention, Daddy had said Molly's name and for once Sherlock listened carefully.

'Lovely lass, that Molly. She wanted to talk to your mother and wait, I wasn't supposed to tell your that. Forget about it.'

 

When the first wave of shock was over, Sherlock began to consider his options. One, assure Molly that she was not obligated to join the dysfunctional Holmes family just because she was pregnant. Two, give her false hope that the baby would be nothing like him, Mycroft or Eurus. Three, apologise to her for getting her into that mess and hope she would not run away.

They were supposed to meet at her flat and then go for a stroll and have a picnic. He was told in advance not to worry about the food. Maybe it was a warning not to bring any, in case he chose something that would make her nauseous.

His solemn expression alarmed Molly. 'What happened?'

Ther was no point in pretending. 'I know. I know why you wanted to meet today.'

Molly looked confused. 'It's my free day. It's sunny. I thought it'd be nice to have a picnic... Why? What's going on? Have you spoken to your father? Did he spoil the surprise?'

'No,' Sherlock lied. An ordinary picnic, unrelated to the date. Oh.

'Ok, then,' she wasn't convinced but something was distracting her. 'Wait here.'

She went into the kitchen and quickly returned with homemade ginger nuts, freshly baked. For the first time in his life, Sherlock didn't mindlessly shove a handful of them into his mouth. He was feeling... something he didn't know how to describe. A strange, empty sensation, something unpleasant.

'I followed your mum's recipe. What is it? Are not feeling well?'

'I need to sit down,' he mumbled. Why did the fading image of Sherlock Jr wearing a tiny deerstalker feel like a lost opportunity? He spent the previous night scaring himself with elaborate mental scenarios of everything that could go wrong with the baby. Where was the overwhelming sense of relief? 

'What did you think it wa- oh, my God.' Molly nearly dropped the platter. 'You expected a positive pregnancy test, didn't you?'

Sherlock was mortified by how stupid it sounded now. She baked him his favourite biscuits, went through the trouble of asking his mother for the recipe. It was all Lestrade's fault that he ruined her lovely surprise.

Molly beamed happily and tenderly cupped his red cheek. 'And you didn't run? You panicked but got a hold of yourself. Probably even thought of a name. Sherlock Jr?'

'Yes.' 

'And now you're feeling a bit disappointed. It's fine, Sherlock, really. We have time,' she said comfortingly, not repulsed by the sheer idea of having his child. 'For now, have a ginger nut.'


End file.
